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Table of Contents
Chapter 69
THE FUNERAL
Haul in the chains! Let the
carcase go astern! The vast tackles have now done their duty. The peeled white
body of the beheaded whale flashes like a marble sepulchre; though changed in
hue, it has not perceptibly lost anything in bulk. it is still colossal.
slowly it floats more and more away, the water round it torn and splashed by
the insatiate sharks, and the air above vexed with rapacious flights of
screaming fowls, whose beaks are like so many insulting poniards in the whale.
The vast white headless phantom floats further and further from the ship, and
every rod that it so floats, what seem square roods of sharks and cubic roods
of fowls, augment the murderous din. For hours and hours from the almost
stationary ship that hideous sight is seen. Beneath the unclouded and mild
azure sky, upon the fair face of the pleasant sea, wafted by the joyous
breezes, that great mass of death floats on and on, till lost in infinite
perspectives. There's a most doleful and most mocking funeral! The
sea-vultures all in pious mourning, the air-sharks all punctiliously in black
or speckled. In life but few of them would have helped the whale, I ween, if
peradventure he had needed it; but upon the banquet of his funeral they most
piously do pounce. Oh, horrible vultureism of earth! from which not the
mightiest whale is free. Nor is this the end. Desecrated as the body is, a
vengeful ghost survives and hovers over it to scare. Espied by some timid
man-of-war or blundering discovery-vessel from afar, when the distance
obscuring the swarming fowls, nevertheless still shows the white mass floating
in the sun, and the white spray heaving high against it; straightway the
whale's unharming corpse, with trembling fingers is set down in the log --
shoals, rocks, and breakers hereabouts: beware! And for years afterwards, ..
2 perhaps, ships shun
the place; leaping over it as silly sheep leap over a vacuum, because their
leader originally leaped there when a stick was held. There's your law of
precedents; there's your utility of traditions; there's the story of your
obstinate survival of old beliefs never bottomed on the earth, and now not
even hovering in the air! There's orthodoxy! Thus, while in life the great
whale's body may have been a real terror to his foes, in his death his ghost
becomes a powerless panic to a world. Are you a believer in ghosts, my friend?
There are other ghosts than the Cock-Lane one, and far deeper men than Doctor
Johnson who believe in them. ..
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